


Forgemaster's Freedom

by Kalira



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: (probably less), Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Carmilla Needs To Die, Character Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fix-It of Sorts, Forging (Castlevania), Gen, Necromancy, Post-Season/Series 02, Rescue, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-07 04:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Carmilla has hauled her new pet Forgemaster back to her hold, but she has made a grave mistake in her plans for him.





	Forgemaster's Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/post/187785964678/whumptober2019-october-approaches-and-so-does), Day 28: Beaten
> 
> I only just (finally) watched season two of Castlevania in the past weeks. I ended it literally shouting at the screen for . . . several reasons, among them that I did not (yet) get to see Carmilla die (I villain-like her; I am eagerly awaiting her horrifying demise in canon) and that Hector, who is indeed such a puppy, really deserved better.
> 
> Then I looked over the Whumptober prompts for the remainder of the month and promptly had this idea.

Hector was jerked out of his uneasy sleep by a choking yank at the metal bolted around his throat. He whimpered, gasping and struggling for breath, as he was hauled to his feet - or at least _up_, not the chance to steady himself.

“Up you get, pet!” Carmilla said with a sharp smile, and cupped his jaw with one hand.

Hector heaved rough breaths as the pressure on the collar eased and he got his feet under him, if somewhat unsteadily. His face throbbed with pain so much already he could barely feel Carmilla’s firm hold.

“What do you want?” Hector asked, glaring at her a little from behind his hair. One of his eyes was almost swollen shut from Carmilla’s gleeful beating before he had been dragged from Brăila on the road back to her stronghold here in Styria.

“Be a good pet. Time to earn your keep.” Carmilla gave him a viciously wide smile, claws digging into both sides of his face from her grip on his jaw. “Forge me a creature, _Forgemaster_.” She beckoned with her free hand and two of her soldiers hauled in a raw, beaten body, throwing it to the floor in the centre of the cell. “A test. I know you won’t fail, will you pet?”

Hector flinched and Carmilla laughed, head tipping back and hair bouncing with the force of her mirth. Then she released Hector’s face and punched him. He fell from his feet, his throbbing face exploding with a new wave of pain and several of the splits in his lip reopening.

But he didn’t hit the floor, because Carmilla had hold of the chain attached to the thick collar restraining him. She hauled him close and punched him again, letting him stagger and catching him only when he was spilling backwards off his feet, dragging him forwards into her fist.

“My pet, for my whims.” Carmilla laughed again, grinning madly. “Forge me a scout, pet.” she ordered, shoving him towards the raw body and holding a hand out behind her.

One of the soldiers put Hector’s war hammer into it, and he trembled, eyes on it. Carmilla gave him an almost sweet smile, cooing as she passed it into his hands. He was so weak and his body so battered that he nearly dropped the heavy tool. He clutched at it, drawing it closer before he lost his balance. The candlelight glinted off the gold coin set in one side of the head, and Hector’s heart settled a little, grateful to have it close.

“_Well?_” Carmilla demanded, with a near-silent click of her heels as she approached him.

Hector flinched, and she laughed brightly, showing a flash of her fangs as her jaw opened wide.

Hector took a breath, brought up the tool before him, and closed his eyes as he rested his palm across it, focusing. He thought about the body before him, the creature it had been and the creature it would be, about something strong and manoeuvrable and smart enough to work alone - to be sent out and fulfil a task alone, and yet return, and understand what it saw to report.

Flames sprang into being around the hammer, and Hector opened his eyes, moved his right foot back one step to position himself, and easily put the pain and stiffness of his battered body aside as he swung. There was a pressure that Hector knew only he felt, and then the creature before Hector writhed and shifted; he struck again, and the creature took a breath, beginning to move; a third time, and Hector watched it grow as blue fire lit in his eyes.

The creature rolled to get his legs under him, wide wings spreading, then climbed to his clawed feet, shaking his big head and long neck, snapping fangs in a muzzle like a horse’s. He stamped a foot restively, looking around, and Hector reached out, smoothing a hand over his nearer wing, which he folded neatly against his side, looking at Hector inquisitively.

Hector stroked his velvety muzzle, thumb brushing by one fang that was the length of Hector’s entire hand. “There you are.” he said softly, meeting the creature’s fiery eyes. He rumbled softly in his throat, his thick, fluffy tail wagging a little like an uncertain, but happy canine.

“Well _done_, Forgemaster.” Carmilla almost crooned. “I’m very pleased. Now stop coddling it!” she snapped, voice suddenly harsh.

Hector reached for the creature’s muzzle, hushing him softly, but he was already moving, eyes rolling and large, pointed ears folding back. He snarled, rearing and kicking out with his front legs. The stone scraped beneath his claws, chips of it coming free as he shifted, hindquarters swinging around.

Carmilla lifted a hand to strike and shouted something Hector couldn’t quite catch the sense of over the sound of crunching stone and the metal of the soldiers’ armour - nothing but her imperious tone. He flinched, and then-

The creature lunged, and suddenly Carmilla’s voice was muffled and wet, her tone shooting up into a shriek. Hector’s eyes widened and he shrank back. There was the thick, dull sound of flesh striking flesh, and blood sprayed across the wall behind Carmilla as they struggled, but Hector had Forged _strength_ and _quickness_ and _intelligence_ and his creature had risen to his determination, to his will for its life.

Carmilla’s blows which so easily battered Hector to the point of agony, bones straining and body throbbing, had little to no effect on the creature he had brought to life. The great head lifted and fangs flashed, and Hector saw Carmilla screaming, her fangs showing through a thick gush of her own blood, her hair tangled and sodden with it, her face-

“No, I didn’t-” Hector shook his head, backing away as one of Carmilla’s soldiers reached for him. “No, leave him!” he shouted thoughtlessly as he saw the other raising a sword and moving to swing at the creature’s rear legs as Carmilla clawed at his neck, drawing blood and carving strips of flesh away. Much narrower, shallower strips than the ones dangling loose - or missing - from her _face_, showing bone beneath and gushing blood.

“_Kill it!_” Carmilla shrieked, thrashing, the stone cracking behind her and beneath her as she fought the creature’s grip on her. “Tear the bloody thing apart!”

Hector choked on another cry as he backed away quickly from the first soldier reaching for him, weapons still sheathed, and the other swung his sword at Hector’s creature. Unlike his more wolfish front legs, the creature’s rear legs had the conformation of a horse - and all the muscle to match. He kicked out and took off the soldier’s head with one clawing, powerful blow, and the vampire fell in a loose-limbed tumble.

The body hit the floor, blood flowed across the stone, and then it melted into ash that darkened and thickened the blood. Hector dodged and Carmilla screamed again, high and thin, and then there was a crunching, squelching sound and a heavy thump, the metal across Carmilla’s shoulders clanking as she hit the wall and then the floor.

Hector gasped as a hard punch caught his cheek. Hard, but . . . not so hard as even the lightest of Carmilla’s. He was weak and it was still enough to send him to the floor, collecting more bruises as he crumpled on the stone floor and fell against the wall.

The soldier shouted something lost in the ringing of Hector’s ears, and then his creature loomed up behind the soldier, howling in fury. Hector struggled to catch his breath, and long fangs sank into the soldier’s shoulder and neck through his armour, which shredded in the great jaws. Before Hector could see anything more, the creature flung him away, then lunged for Hector, baring his fangs in a gaping maw far too wide for his muzzle.

Hector huffed out a little half-sob as the collar around his neck crunched in great fangs, then yanked at his throat painfully for a moment before breaking away. His smiled, reaching up with one hand and smoothing it shakily over his creature’s muzzle as he dropped the collar, letting it fall beside Hector’s thigh.

He whined softly, nuzzling Hector’s face with a nudge of velvety soft fur and the smooth slide of a bloody fang. He leaned into it, closing his eyes, sagging with relief. His cheek pressed against hard bone beneath short fur at the top of the creature’s muzzle, and he rubbed at the underside, then up along the broad, wounded neck, through sticky blood.

A gentle nudge and Hector realised he had been slumping forwards. He straightened again and looked up, and the creature pawed at the stone before Hector. He whined again, bobbing his head and flexing his claws against the stone.

Hector could hear Carmilla’s soldiers off in corridors somewhere beyond the still open door to his cell, and his heart beat faster. He reached for his war hammer and once he had it in hand he rolled forwards onto his knees, hauling himself up from there. He smiled - it hurt - as a great head nudged under his arm, helping him to his feet. He stroked the short, spiky mane.

“Thank you.” Hector said, and caught his breath sharply, eyes burning. “Thank you for saving me.” He bowed his head, resting his brow against the creature’s. “I did not even get a moment to name you. . .”

He arched his neck as Hector straightened, head bobbing, and looked him in the eye, ears perked towards him.

“Vlad.” Hector said, mouth twisting, and rubbed the broad brow. “My friend. Thank you.”

Vlad nuzzled him and then twisted, clawed feet sure even on the blood-washed stone of the cell. He ducked one wing lower and nudged Hector with his muzzle, pushing him closer to Vlad’s side.

Hector shuddered - the soldiers were coming closer - and climbed up onto Vlad’s back, tucking himself between Vlad’s great wings even as he brought them up. Hector glanced aside and saw Carmilla’s ruined face, twisted into a rictus of a scream, her dress several shades darker than it had been.

And then Carmilla’s body melted away into bloody ash and shadow, and Vlad leapt, kicking out ahead of himself as he moved. The second iron-banded door that Hector had not seen opened since he had been dragged into this cell shattered under the single blow of Vlad’s feet, and then they were through it and Vlad was running, wings arched.

In moments he wheeled, breaking through another door and a cascade of glass, and then they were flying. Hector clung to Vlad’s neck, lying against Vlad’s sturdy back and cradled between Vlad’s wings as they beat, his war hammer tucked close against his body. He thought vaguely of trying to guide Vlad, but he could hardly see - or _think_ \- well enough, and he had called Vlad to be a scout, to think for himself and work out paths and dangers and safe places.

He closed his eyes, pressed his face to Vlad’s neck, and let himself be carried.

He didn’t sleep, but he sank into a thick fog in his mind, lulled by the warmth of Vlad beneath him and the steady beat of Vlad’s wings and the fresh air around them, stinging with every breath and tossing his hair.

He lifted his head as Vlad’s wings beat faster and his body angled upwards sharply. They were descending close between trees, and Vlad landed in a jarring lope. Hector nearly tumbled from his back with the impact, clutching Vlad’s neck even as he slid forwards, controlling the drop he took over Vlad’s shoulder.

He stumbled, his already battered body even more sore from the ride on Vlad’s back, and landed hard on Vlad’s broad neck. Hector’s war hammer dropped from his numb fingers to the loam at his feet, and Vlad nuzzled him, rumbling softly. Hector smiled and reached up, rubbing up the top of Vlad’s muzzle to his brow, then back down to his soft nose. Vlad yipped, nudging Hector gently, then shifted, long legs folding and taking them both down to the loam. Hector landed hard on his knees, then curled lower, leaning forwards into Vlad’s neck and chest.

One huge wing unfurled over him, and Vlad’s body curled around his own with a low rumble, soft and soothing. Vlad nosed his shoulders, his hair, his aching and raw neck, the gentle touch from his velvety soft muzzle easing some of the prickling tension from Hector’s body.

He was battered and pained, hungry and miserable, he didn’t know where he would go from here or even where he was, but . . . he was safe, here with Vlad, created of his calling, Vlad who had saved him, curled around him protectively.

Hector shuddered and curled a hand into a loose fist where it rested on Vlad’s shoulder, and he lowered his wing a little more, warm and close around Hector’s bruised body.

“Thank you, Vlad.” Hector said softly, once more, with his last breath before he fell into an exhausted sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> One post-season two fix-it (ish) down . . . several more to go, I'm sure. >.>


End file.
